Riane & Fenris: Secret Santa 2014
by Rhys Sumner
Summary: A one-shot about Riane & Fenris celebrating Satinalia with their companions at the Hanged Man.


Fenris sat in his upstairs hideaway, face in his hand, listening to Varric prattle on about the upcoming festivities. "Everyone is coming: Aveline, Daisy, Rivani, Blondie. Choir-boy declined saying he would be at the Chantry all evening, but Junior even said he would try to stop by."

"I said no, dwarf."

"You've got to learn to lighten up, Broody." Fenris shot an irritated look at Varric that quickly dissipated. While he had argued the nickname for years, it had stuck, just like every other name Varric settled upon. Seeing that the nickname had not stoked the elf's temper, he added, "Plus, if you don't show, who's going to protect Hawke from Rivani and the mistletoe?"

"Riane is going?"

"Well, of course? You thought the glue that holds our band of merry misfits together would abandon us on Satinalia? Perish the thought."

Fenris had not thought Riane would attend. Amidst all the chaos brewing in Kirkwall, it seemed she had little enough down time. However, after the passing of Riane's mother, Leandra, it should have been obvious to him that Hawke would not choose to be alone in the Amell Mansion.

"I suppose I could stop by as well."

Letting out a brief chuckle, Varric replied, "Wait, wait... you're joking, right?"

"I am not. As you said, who will stop Isabela from seducing Riane."

With a proud smile, Varric turned and strolled out of Fenris' commandeered home.

Satinalia had never been a splendid occasion for Fenris. Danarius had hosted many of the ranking Magisters at his home in Minrathus, and more often than not, Fenris had been his chosen entertainment for the evening. But those years were gone. Danarius was dead, but his sister...

His mind wandered. What had his holidays been like with his family before he had been branded with magic? Had they been happy? Or had they been so poor and deprived that they could not celebrate Satinalia?

While Varania yet lived after their encounter, he now felt he could not truly call her sister. How could his own blood have wanted to return him to slavery? His anger roared in his ears, rage streaming through his lyrium brands. In a cry of outrage, he grabbed his hefty-sword and cleaved a nearby bench in half, the wood crackling as it splintered under the sword's weight. Fenris disarmed, the sword clattering on the stone floor until the only audible sounds were the roar of the fireplace and Fenris' quickened breath. He let out a defeated sigh. Why had he agreed to attend a joyous holiday celebration when all he could focus on was what he had lost and been through?

"Everyone is coming: Aveline, Daisy, Rivani, Blondie. Of course, Choir-boy plans to sing the chant all night, but even Junior said he would try to stop by."

"I really don't feel like seeing Carver, Varric. He has barely spoken two-words to me since Mother's death. You'd think I'd sprouted a pair of wings and started calling myself 'Archdemon.'"

"Hey, if I can spend a few hours with my lyrium-addled brother, Bartrand, you can go to a party that your templar brother may, or may not, attend."

It had been quite some time since Carver had chosen a life among the templars of Kirkwall's Gallows. Mother had received letters from him on a regular basis, but they all but denied Riane's existence. The years had stolen away her father, baby sister, and mother; in a way, they had also taken Carver. In Ferelden, he had joined the King's army as away to escape from all the magic swirling around the Hawke household. He was a strong young man any father should have been proud of, but not being a mage, Malcolm and Carver had had little in common except protecting Riane and Bethany from the Circle. Joining the Templar order seemed to her to be Carver's final act of rebellion against everything their family had been in Lothering.

Noticing Riane's contemplative stare, Varric spoke up again, "And if you don't go, there's no telling what a drunken Rivani will do to Broody Elf under the mistletoe."

"You didn't mention Fenris was going. I thought he'd be at home over being on the Naughty List this year."

"What makes you think Strong, Slight, and Angry is on the Naughty List?"

"Well, I doubt reaching into people's chests and crushing their hearts has landed him on the nice list."

"Come on, you of all people should know he was just making the Naughty List shorter."

"But really, Fenris is going to the Satinalia party at the Hanged Man? He knows Anders and Merrill are coming, right?"

"I told him. I might have also threatened to base my next book off of what Rivani does to you under the mistletoe," Varric told her with a wink.

"We all know Isabela only has eyes for Bianca. Something about her needing a woman's touch if I remember."

"Aye. Bianca was so confused she didn't fire properly for a few days after Rivani said that. Imagine if she'd actually got ahold of her," he said with a shudder. "It's just you and me, Bianca. Isn't that right sweetheart?" he asked, longingly glancing over his shoulder at his crossbow.

"And who says love isn't alive and well in the Dragon Age?" Riane jested at Varric.

"Laugh all you want Hawke, but Bianca and I have been through hell together. I can always depend on her. Just like I can depend on you to not leave me alone with our misfit band at the party, right?"

"Fine, Varric. I'll be there."

"Perfect! Then I'll see you at the Hanged Man. Don't forget your item for the gift exchange," Varric replied as he took his leave.

"Gift exchange? What gift exchange?" Riane yelled after the dwarf.

"Oh, you know. Write down name, draw a random name, get a gift. The usual festivities," he answered, nearing the door.

"But I haven't drawn a name."

"I drew for everyone. You got Fenris."

"Wait, if you drew for everyone, then you know who got your na-"

"See you tomorrow Hawke!" he hollered as he shut the door behind him.

_That damn rogue,_ Riane thought. "Well, I better get to the markets then," she said more to herself than to her Mabari hound, before turning to him, "Unless you'd like to go shopping for me. What do you say, boy?"

He whined up at her quizzically.

"I know. I have no idea what to get for him either, so I guess I better start looking."

"Daisy, who sold this to you?"

"Oh, a very nice man in Lowtown. He said it was perfect for all lubricating needs. I thought it might help after you were complaining about Bianca misfiring."

"Daisy, Bianca doesn't misfire. She was just having an off-day."

"Oh, my mistake then. I just thought you could use it to lubricate Bianca's parts."

"I can lubricate her for you, Varric," Isabela chimed in.

"What have I told you Rivani? She only responds to me. And either way, this isn't that kind of lubricant, Daisy."

"Well then. What is it for, Varric?"

"Merrill, remember that little chat you and I had..."

"But what does that-"

"Friction, Merrill."

"But I-Oh dear!"

Varric and Isabela had to hold their sides from laughing so hard.

"It's alright, Daisy. I'm sure I can re-gift it to a certain ex-ship captain I know."

"Varric," Isabela interjected, "You don't need lube if you do things right."

"Too bad," Aveline joined in, "it would have gone perfectly with my gift for you. I got you more salves from Anders' apothecary."

"What makes you think I need those?"

"Because I know you Isabela."

Isabela replied only with a devious smile as she fetched up your holiday prizes.

"Good to see you could make it Red," said Varric greeting Aveline.

"Varric..."

"Right, no 'Red,' I forgot. I got your gift here."

"Varric, I already told you. I have no interest in reading _Hard In Hightown_."

"Oh, but Captain, I promise you that you'll want to read this one before it hits the public markets."

"_Swords and Shields_?"

"It's my new Romance serial. I'd love to get your opinion."

"If I have time between planning my wedding and keeping the Qunari at bay, I'll try to get through it."

"Suit yourself," Varric accepted, sharing a knowing smile with Isabela at Aveline's expense.

As all the jovial happenings quieted down the usual bickering between Fenris and Anders could be heard on the other side of the tavern.

"I was trying to be cordial you self-righteous abomination. I thought a spirit resistance amulet would be useful," Fenris argued.

"Useful? Try offensive. You know full well that joining with Justice has been an ordeal for me. And I am no mindless abomination," Anders yelled back.

"You said mindless, not I, Mage."

"Boys, boys!" Varric joined in. "It's the holidays. Can't we all just get along? Hawke's not even here yet. Can't you boys just keep it together for _one_ night?"

"Speaking of Riane, dwarf, where is she?" Fenris inquired.

"I'm sure she'll be here soon. She must have finished up at the markets by now?"

At that exact moment, Riane walked in, and Fenris' face lit up. They had been distant since he ran out on their night together, but he had regretted it ever since. He had feared what those flashbacks might have meant for him and Hawke. Now, he missed what that closeness had felt like. How he longed for that closeness again, even if it brought back his pain.

"You all got me something, right? Where are all my Satinalia gifts?" Riane exclaimed, joining all her friends as they each raised a pint in recognition.

The festivities continued well into the night. The drunker Isabela got the more determined she became to fondle Varric and Bianca. Merrill became little more than a crumpled heap on the floor. She only appeared humanoid when Anders gave her her Satinalia gift, a ball of twine. He had given up hope of getting another cat, and the one Varric had given her when she first moved here had run out. He had added, "At least that way we'll know which way to go when the demon she made her deal with turns on her," but she was too wasted to hear him. She all but draped herself over his shoulder the rest of the evening, going on about how thoughtful he was to Anders' revulsion. Donnic stopped by the Hanged Man to keep Aveline company once he finished his rounds. Once they each had a few drinks in them, they discreetly dismissed themselves to enjoy some holiday festivities of their own.

Varric took pity on Anders as everyone else started winding down. He and Isabela each hooked one of Merrill's arms over their shoulders and escorted her back to the Alienage. Anders, glad to be free of her, finished his drink and stood to take his leave. As he strolled toward the door, a man in full templar armor appeared in the doorway. Everyone in the Hanged Man fell silent, the metal of the man's armor filling the spaces between baited breaths of the taverns patrons. Anders diverted to the bar, turning his back to the armored intruder. The templar scanned the room, then slowly reached up to remove his helmet.

"Sister," Carver said, acknowledging Riane.

"Well, it seems my templar brother finally learned how to demand attention. Bravo," Riane replied, in her standard sarcastic manner.

"And here I thought we'd maintain civility for at least a few minutes."

"Civility, from a templar?" Anders added, turning from the bar.

"Don't think I won't drag you back with me at the end of the night. The Knight-Commander would be pleased with one of the most wanted apostates as a Satinalia gift."

"Helmet and Staffy need to get along," Riane interjected trying to diffuse the tension.

"I was just leaving anyhow. Too much brooding in the room with both of them here," Anders huffed, nodding towards Fenris as he took his leave.

Slowly, the conversations that had halted upon Carver's arrival began to pick up again.

"It seems we managed to avoid a war between templar and mage for the evening. There is something to be joyful about."

Carver simply replied with a huffed grunt.

"Junior! You made it!" Varric hollered as he and Isabela re-entered the tavern. "Now the fun can really start."

Riane commented, "Carver? Fun? Perish the thought."

"Where'd you two come from?" Carver asked, ignoring his sister's jest.

"We just dropped your sweet little blossom off back home," Isabela replied in a gushing, cooing manner.

Carver tried not to blush as he replied, "I didn't-I never said that-"

"You're wasting your breath Junior. You're a terrible liar. We all know you have eyes for her," Varric interrupted.

"Plus, I have a different gift for you to open," Isabela chimed.

"For me?" Carver asked.

"Of course, silly. I drew your name for our little exchange, and I always hold up my end of the bargain. I'll be right back."

Varric and Riane locked glances, unsure whether to avert their attention or watch the transaction take place... Oh, who were they kidding?! They'd have grabbed another pint and snacks if they would have had time.

Isabela returned from her room, and presented Carver with a small, enclosed box.

"What is it?"

"You know how gifts work, right? You have to open it," Isabela told him, her Wicked Grace face barely concealing her desire to burst into laughter.

Carver eyed her momentarily before turning his attention to the small metal latch on the front of the wooden box. With a quick flip of the latch he gingerly lifted the lid, only to slam it closed with urgency. His face flushed as red as his templar skirt dressings.

with a wink, Isabela whispered in his ear, just loud enough for the others to hear, "It's for those nights that Faith isn't working at the Rose."

Trying to regain his composure, Carver said, "I don't-This is..."

"Gross," Varric filled in.

Riane walked away from the exchange, trying to erase the idea of Carver playing with his new toy from her mind. Fenris had been sitting apart from them, knowing full well that Isabela had been waiting for the opportunity to ruffle Carver's feathers in such a manner, and Riane was glad to finally be able to spend some time alone with him.

"Come here often?" she greeted him coyly.

"Only as often as you, and for Wicked Grace."

"Spoilsport."

"I did not realize we were playing a game."

"Isn't courtship a game of sorts?"

"I suppose one might think so. But then, who is winning?"

"I'm sitting across from the most handsome elf here. I'd say I'm faring pretty well."

"No fears that Isabela won't steal me away as soon as she's done toying with your brother?"

"The Maker might strike her with a bolt of lightning for trying."

"Or perhaps you would."

"Semantics," she said, grinning mischievously.

Fenris grinned back in reply, before his somber eyes returned. "I suppose I'll be waiting some time to receive whatever trinket your brother found to give me for this silly exchange."

"Why do you think Carver drew your name?"

"Everyone else here has given their gifts, except for you and your brother, and you've been here several hours. I assumed you were waiting to gift your brother."

"Or I was just waiting for the right time to give you yours." Riane produced a pair of finely crafted boots.

"What is this?"

"They're boots. I know this may be strange for you, but most people wear protective footwear. It helps keep people from hacking off your lower limbs and keeping your feet warm," she informed him smugly.

"I know what they are. I just... the bite of cold, or sword cuts never compared to the pain of markings. I never saw need of them," he told her, reaching out to hold the pair. He examined the material closely. "They are of fine crafting. They could not have been a bargain."

"I had to ensure your feet had the best protection possible. How else will you charge into battle defending me when my mouth runs off."

"It is often hard to keep up," he said with his one sided grin. He turned the boots over in his hands, until he noticed the embroidery. "What is this?"

Pale thread twisted and wound it's way around the boot in similar patterns to the markings covering Fenris' body, matching many markings that were not visible while he wore his armor. And at the back of the thigh were interwoven birds facing abreast: the Amell crest.

"I didn't want to give you just any boots. I wanted them as something to remember us. I wanted you to know that you have left your own mark on me as well."

"I-" Fenris began, "I have never seen any beauty in the lyrium branded in my skin. And when Varania told me I asked for them, I hated them even more. But this... It does not make them less painful, but your sentiment behind their depiction has given me pause."

"Good. I thought you might throw them into the fire in a peak of rage."

"Riane, I would never dishonor you so much as to burn something bearing your family's crest. It will be an honor to wear it." He set the boots aside on the table and reach for her hand, looking at her warmly. In that stare were so many unspoken words between them. Explanations, apologies, and loving words they had each only said in their minds.

"Sister," Carver said as he approached.

Riane's head flopped to the table like a slung stone. "Moment killer," she muttered inaudibly. "Yes, Carver?"

"I drew your name."

"And you didn't just get me coal? Praise the Maker." He held out a closed fist, awaiting Riane to present her open palm to accept her prize. He glanced between his presented hand, and the one at his side. "But what if I want what's in that hand?"

"Just take the damn thing, Riane. Why does everything have to be a joke with you?"

Seeing his sincere frustration, she yielded. "Alright, I'm sorry. You're just usually serious enough for the both of us," she replied as she held out her hand.

Into her palm fell a short, delicate chain with a small jeweled amulet.

Carver explained, "It was Bethany's. I found it among her things when we finally settled into Gamlen's after leaving Lothering. She once told me it was a gift from Father to Mother during their early courtship. I held on to it until now because it reminded me of the good she saw in me. But with everything that's happened, I feel like she would have wanted you to have it. And I wanted you to know, no matter how much we may disagree, I don't blame you for what happened to mother. I know you investigated the missing women. I just wished we'd caught the bastard sooner."

Riane stood speechless, running her forefinger along the path the chain had taken in her hand. She had not had anything of Bethany's after the Ogre attack outside of Lothering. "I-Thank you, Carver. I'm sure they're all proud of the man you've become."

They shared a moment of understanding. They may want to kill each other from time to time, but they were the only family the other had, and that meant something to them.

Carver ended the moment with a nod. "Well, I'd better get back to the Gallows. Meredith didn't exactly sanction any of the templars' holiday leave."

"Still rebelling against authority, brother?"

"You know me, sister." He departed from Riane, saying farewell to the remaining companions whom had gathered.

Fenris stood to join Riane. "That was a thoughtful gift he bestowed upon you. I know the loss of your sister meant a great deal to each of you. And not knowing her, I always feel my sympathies are insufficient."

Riane leaned her head on his shoulder as she grasped his hand. "You have always been more than sufficient, my love."

Fenris smiled at that and took in this moment of affection. After a few moments he began looking about.

"What is it?" Riane asked.

He looked back at her, saying "Come this way," as he led her toward the entryway of the Hanged Man.

"It would be awfully rude to leave without saying 'goodbye' Fenris." Without another word, he pulled her into him, fervently meeting her lips with his. She melted into him. It reminded her of the night at the estate when he had come back after confronting Hadriana. As he pulled back, he glanced upward, and her eyes followed his. The mistletoe.

"Get a room you, too!" Isabela called after the two.

"I guess our names are going to get moved to the naughty list," Riane whispered to him before leaning in for another taste of his lips.


End file.
